Wotcher
by romulusrapier
Summary: Teddy pays a visit to his parents, realizing that it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. postDH, preEpilogue.


_Author's Note: There's not much to say on this one, though it was fun to get to know Teddy. I hope he's believable--I certainly like him. He's cute ;)  
I do hope you all enjoy this one. _

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"Wotcher, Mum. Dad." 

It wasn't like he'd never been here before—why was he so anxious? Granted, he'd never come with the intention of staying longer that a reverent silence, let alone to sit and talk. He wasn't even sure what he'd say—it almost felt silly.

"It's me, Teddy."

He sat down in front of the grave for two, the lush summer grass giving way beneath him. A warm, August breeze blew through his turquoise hair which, for once, wasn't spiked into a mohawk. He glanced around the all-too-familiar graveyard, knowing his grandfather wasn't too far off to the left. He could picture his grandmother placing flowers on top of his namesake's grave, a few tears in her eyes even after all these years.

Teddy sighed, wondering if he should just leave. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tattered, dog-eared photo that he'd obviously had for years. The two people in the photo smiled up at him, the man's arm wrapped around the woman who held a small wiggling child with bright turquoise hair. The man's hair was graying and his eyes looked tired even as he smiled while the woman's vivid pink hair and wide grin always made Teddy smile.

He slid the photo back into his pocket and took a deep breath. This was as close as he'd ever get to talking to his parents.

"I don't know if you know," he began slowly, "but I just graduated from Hogwarts in June. Got all my N.E.W.T.s. Gram's real proud, you should see her. She tells anyone foolish enough to stand near her that her grandson is some 'intellectual prodigy'," he said as he rolled his eyes. "Of course, that doesn't stop her from shouting every time I drop or knock over something. She says I'm so much like you, Mum, that she'd think I was you reincarnated if I didn't love reading so much. I suppose I get that from Dad."

He was surprised how easily that had come. It was almost like he was having a genuine conversation—just with someone that couldn't talk back. What else he might be able to tell his parents that would be of interest?

"I start Auror training in September. I'm really nervous, but Harry says there's no need to be. He told me last week that I could be the worst Auror in history and he'd still get me a job—he's head of the department after all. But he also said that with you two for parents, he has no doubt that I'll be great." A smile spread across his lips at these words. "He's really excited—I think it would have killed him if I didn't get all my N.E.W.T.s. He might even be more proud of me than Gram, if that's possible.

"He's really great, Harry. But you know that. He's married to Ginny Weasley now and they have me over for dinner all the time. Their kids love it because it means a special dessert," he chuckled lightly. "That James is a right handful—he's going to get into so much trouble when he goes to school this year. I think Albus will be glad his brother isn't there to pick on him anymore but Lily just can't wait to go to school herself," he grinned faintly as another breeze swept through, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. This was definately getting easier. He didn't feel silly anymore. All the things he'd want his parents to know were starting to spill out of him.

"And then, every Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have _everyone_ over for dinner. It's really quite a crowd, but I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said, running his fingers through his hair. He was silent for a moment, reminiscing of how enjoyable Sunday evenings were for him—he really felt like part of a family. "I wish you could see it. Harry and Ginny bring James, Albus, and Lily; Ron and Hermione bring Rose and Hugo; Bill and Fleur bring Victoire and—"

He stopped short, that fluttery feeling he always got when he thought of Victoire Weasley cutting him off.

"I _do_ wish you could meet Victoire," he said suddenly, a warm grin on his face. "She's wonderful. I know you'd like her. I'm really crazy about her...I'm sure you understand. She's two years younger than me, so she's still at school. But she's brilliant and funny and pretty and kind—basically she looks just like her mother but is just like her father. Kind of the opposite of me, now that I think about it..." he said, his voice trailing off slightly as he got lost in his thoughts for a moment. "I mean, everyone tells me how much I look like my father and I already told you how much like Mum I am."

He sighed lightly, sitting in silence for a few moments. He always got a warm feeling of pride when someone told him how much he was like his parents. It made him feel connected to the people he couldn't remember. Yet, he couldn't help but be saddened at the thought that he would never know for himself. He would never laugh with his mother about dropping a plate or discuss an interesting book with his father.

He'd never know them _at all_. He only had stories and pictures. True, pictures showed him how he did, in fact, look just like his father and that he shared his mother's love for brightly colored hair and stories proved how much he _was_ like his mother and that his father _did_ have a similar fascination with books. But neither the pictures nor the stories could fill the hole that only his parents could. They would never give him the parental advice he desired. And while Harry was as good as a father to him, he couldn't help but long to know the two people who had left him behind.

He sighed again, wondering if he had anything left to say, He slowly reached out his arm and grazed the name imprinted in the stone. The name he shared with his parents. One of the few things they'd been able to give him before they died.

_Lupin_.

"Harry told me something a few years ago," he said abruptly, almost thinking out loud. The memory had just resurfaced in his mind. His pale eyes drifted to the _Remus John Lupin_ engraved on the left side of the stone. "He told me that he spoke with you, Dad, just after you died..." he swallowed hard. He felt his eyes burning slightly. "I _do_ understand. I know both of you were fighting to make the world a better place—not just for me, but for everyone. Thank you."

"Thank you for everything."

"...Thank you for my life."

Warm tears slid down his cheeks but he did nothing to stop them. Another warm breeze picked up, but this one was different. It completely engulfed him in its warmth and somehow, Teddy knew he hadn't just been talking to a rock. His words had been heard and he couldn't help but smile to himself.

Suddenly he spotted his watch, slowly standing up and wiping his cheeks. "If I don't go now, Harry will be mad that I'm late for dinner, so uh...I'll see you soon," he said, frowning slightly at how strange that phrase was to him. "Bye Mum. Bye Dad."

He pulled out his wand, conjuring a flower and setting it on top of his parents' grave, then turning and walking down the hill. Little did he know a pair of unseen spectators was gazing at him as he walked away.

_Wotcher, Teddy_.

_Take care, son_.

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_Give me a review and you can give Teddy a much needed hug :)_


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